An Ode Called Where

Where do the birds go to die?
There should be great stacks,
whole pyramids of bird corpses, and others
pyramids of different kinds corresponding
to the likeness of all of them, the animals
all the sea of things that breathe,
there they are somewhere and somewhere.....
They go there to sleep in that eternity,
a statue place where monuments cover
the avenue in shade and formula, the girl
with a hoop runs towards that point
following the shadows she haslearned by touch, the man
with a peculiar hat tipped slightly, avoids
his journey by standing like that, an arc
made of bird feathers on the cloth of bird skin
where they've all gone to simply be, flattened
into the thought that light is transparent
as much as the flight of where they go.
Watch how they go there all the time, watch
through the trees, the descent, the vanishing.